


Glory and Grace

by iwanttowriteyouafic



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Change Room Sex, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mentions of homophobia, Smut, Solo Liam, mentions of islamophobia, soccer player zayn, they may or may not be boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 05:39:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5697082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwanttowriteyouafic/pseuds/iwanttowriteyouafic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The moment Liam stepped onto the field he knew Harry was going to kill him. There was paparazzi everywhere, all of whom seemed to immediately give up the pretence of taking photos of the players and instead turn their cameras on Liam. Harry’s words rang in his ear when the first flash blinded him: ‘Don’t you dare go to that match, Payne. Being your agent is hard enough without you purposely messing with the press.’</p><p>Naturally, Liam has come to the match.</p><p> </p><p>(Or the one where European football up-and-comer Zayn Malik may or may not be dating R&B star Liam Payne. Liam may or may not love fuelling the rumours.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glory and Grace

**Author's Note:**

> [Based on the anonymous prompt: Hello, I have a prompt that you already know I guess. I saw those tweets and can you write the dating rumours with the soccer player one please please please please.]
> 
> *** PLEASE DO NOT REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS ON OTHER SITES WITHOUT GETTING MY PERMISSION FIRST. Do not post copies of my work on livejournal, wattpad, fanfiction.net or anywhere, even if you have the intention of giving me credit. I do not want them on those sites at this point in time. So far, I have only given permission for my fic 'Pride' to be translated into Russian and posted on a Russian fanfiction website. Any other copies of my work that I come across will be reported. Please don't do it. It really sucks that I have to even write this note. ***

The moment Liam stepped onto the field he knew Harry was going to kill him. There was paparazzi everywhere, all of whom seemed to immediately give up the pretence of taking photos of the players and instead turn their cameras on Liam. Harry’s words rang in his ear when the first flash blinded him: ‘Don’t you dare go to that match, Payne. Being your agent is hard enough without you purposely messing with the press.’

Naturally, Liam has come to the match.

He walked past the paps until he was at the sidelines next to all the WAGs. The cameras behind him went wild at that, especially after Gregson’s fiancée walked over to great him. The team was already on the field practicing, doing some sort of drill that put Horan’s keeping skills to the test. He was excellent, though, only missing a single shot by Tomlinson. 

It didn’t take long to find Zayn. He was on the other side of the pitch, dribbling a ball casually while he waited for Rodríguez to clear off so that he could have a shot at the goal. His long hair was pushed back by a headband, leaving his flushed cheeks and sweaty forehead unobscured by his thick, dark hair. His uniform clung tightly to his skin (whether from sweat or just size, Liam didn’t know), allowing lean muscles to be visible. When he ran towards the goals there was a definite sort of intensity in his strides. His long legs, focussed demeanour and love for the game all collided in an instant, all resulting in a perfect top bin. Liam couldn’t help but grin as he watched.

Zayn caught his eye as he ran to line up again. He was close enough that Liam could see his eyes scrunching up with his smile, but not close enough that Liam could see the twinkle in his amber eyes that he knew was there.

“You here for Zayn, then?” Dolomore’s wife, Anita, asked, eyes watching her husband with a fond smile.

After a moment, Liam nodded.

“Good,” she said. “He more than deserves the support.”

Liam quickly shook his head. “I’m not-”

“Liam James Payne,” his agent’s voice cut him off. Harry was storming his way over to him, surprisingly coordinated considering his baby-deer legs were threatening to slide all over the damp grass. “Are we just ignoring everything I say, now?”

Liam groaned, shifting his hat nervously. “I’m not ignoring you.”

Harry gave him a deadpan look when he arrived beside him. “I asked you to not come to the game. You came to the game. That means you ignored me.”

“What difference does it make?” Liam asked in exasperation. “People are going to talk no matter what.”

“You know what being here means,” Harry sighed. His eyes raked over the field, falling on Zayn’s lean body with an unimpressed frown.

And, yeah, Liam did know what it all means. He once again eyed the paparazzi, cameras still going crazy, the fan-filled stadium, the staff members loitering around. Liam wasn’t vain enough to think that all eyes were on him, but he was smart enough to know that a fair few were. Liam being here, in the middle of his European tour where there had never been so much hype surrounding him, was enough to make people talk. Pair that with being openly bisexual and watching a man play soccer whom he has been linked with on more than a few occasions, and Liam was bound to draw some attention. 

Zayn’s teammates weren’t helping, either. They all kept jogging past to nudge Zayn with obvious nods to the singer, or cat call as he ran past, or even, in Tomlinson’s case, make some pretty lewd gestures that the younger members on the audience may be scarred by. They only stopped once Coach Cowell threatened to bench the lot of them. 

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Liam asked Harry.

Harry shrugged. “Keeping you out of trouble.”

Liam raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment.

Soon enough the game was getting started. Tomlinson won the coin toss, and fist-bumped Zayn as he ran to his position as centre midfield. Zayn and Gregson set up the ball on the half line while the rest of the team fell into position behind them. And then the whistle blew.

The game moved almost too quickly for Liam to keep up with. Zayn kicked to Gregson, Gregson to Harris, Harris booting it up forward while Gregson sprinted to get it before the opposition’s left-wing could send it back again. Men were near-colliding with each other; legs sticking out in tackles that the fans booed at, ball fighting at peoples’ shins, men jumping up sporadically for headers that almost always resulted on players stumbling on top of members of the opposition. The refs were being put to work, whistles blowing every few minutes as someone grabbed onto someone else’s shirt for a second too long or accidentally-on-purpose knocked someone over. 

Tension was running high and it took Liam a little while to figure out why. Liam hadn’t heard much about the game, had been too preoccupied with various gigs and publicity events. It was only when he heard one of the women surrounding him murmur ‘one hell of a semi-final’ that things started to make sense.

Liam expected things to calm down once the initial adrenaline had calmed down, but it seemed like opposite was to be true. The ball was flying across the field so quickly and sporadically that Liam felt himself becoming dizzy with it. The players were running around everywhere, some sort of organisation to their movement that Liam didn’t recognise. So, he decided that it was too hard to follow the game, and instead just watched Zayn.

The man was clearly exhausted after sprinting for the better part of the match so far. He was hunched slightly, shifting on his feet as though to keep his blood flowing. His eyes seemed to be tracking the ball despite it being way down with the defence. Liam noticed distantly that blue really suited Zayn. 

When the ref blew a whistle to signal half time, the players quickly ran to the coach’s box to meet Cowell, all either looking down at their feet or otherwise avoiding the coach’s eyes. No one had scored yet, and by the look on Cowell’s face he wasn’t too happy.

“They’re favoured to win, you know,” Harry said conversationally, eyes wide. “By a landslide. West Brom is shut.”

“Hey,” Liam said defensively. West Brom was his favourite team growing up.

“Who’s side are you even on?” Harry laughed.

Liam just shrugged, hands in his pockets. “When did you get so knowledgeable about footy, anyway?” he asked.

“I may have been doing my research,” Harry answered slowly. 

“Why?” Liam asked, eyebrow raising in curiosity. “You planning on representing some of the lads?”

“I’m too busy with your decision-ignoring ass,” Harry snapped without heat.

Liam just grinned. “Why, then?”

Harry sighed loudly, digging the ball of one of his gold shoes into the grass almost petulantly. “Have you seen some of these men, Liam? Fuckin’ muscles and sweaty and nice hair.”

“Ah,” Liam said, nodding in understanding. His eyes assessed the team, once again skimming over Zayn before he looked at the others in consideration. “Which one’s spiked your interest, then?”

“Well there’s two, mainly,” Harry admitted. “There’s, uh, Louis-”

“Nope,” Louis’ girlfriend, Eleanor, cut him off. Liam’s met her once before; she’s a nice girl. “He’s off the market, sorry.”

Harry shrugged easily. “And then the keeper.”

“Niall Horan?” Liam asked, eyeing the blonde who was smiling widely while Cowell was clearly praising his work on the field. Weirdly, he could actually see him with Harry.

“Keepers have big hands, right?” Harry asked seriously. “So, like, there’re no downsides.”

“I reckon you go for it,” Eleanor said, nodding in approval. “He’s never brought anyone to a match or awards night or anything, so I’m pretty sure he’s single.”

“Into guys?” Harry asked her.

Eleanor shrugged. “I’ve never asked, but I know for a fact that he drunkenly tried to song Louis once or twice back when they were both on the reserves team.”

Harry smiled like this was the best news in the world.

The two of them kept chatting even once the game started again, but Liam tuned them out once they started discussing Paris Fashion Week. Harry would fill him in if he needed to make an appearance, but otherwise he didn’t care all that much.

Almost immediately after the game resumed Zayn was tackled illegally and kicked into the mud. The ref blew a whistle immediately, holding a yellow card up to the sneering opposition’s face. The man started yelling at the umpire, hands gesturing angry to Zayn as he pushed himself off the ground with some difficulty. Louis ran over to check if he was okay, but got side-tracked by something the man said. And then punched his face.

“Oh shit,” Harry grasped from next to him.

Louis was immediately red-carded and removed from the field, but so was the man who tackled Zayn. Zayn himself looked a little annoyed but a lot embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck nervously while the ref positioned the ball for a free kick. Liam looked over to where Louis was arriving next to Cowell, expecting to see the mid-fielder getting chewed out for blowing his casket. Instead he saw Louis say something, face clearly livid, and then Cowell nod once while he fought to keep his own expression void of fury. 

Louis wondered over to them shortly after. He was flipping off the opposition’s bench as he passed. 

“What happened?” Eleanor asked, arms immediately wrapping around Louis’ waist. 

“The fucker called Zayn a faggot,” Louis sneered furiously. “And a terrorist.”

Liam wasn’t the only one who breathed in a sharp intake of air. Anger immediately pulsed through him, furious eyes seeking out the man who had said something so fucked up. He was hidden behind a barrier like the coward he was. 

“How’s Zayn?” Eleanor asked.

Louis just shook his head. “Embarrassed. You know how he is.”

Their attention was drawn back to the game when they heard a cacophony of cheering. Gregson had just scored, and was being all but flattened as half the team jumped on top of him in congratulations. Zayn stood slightly to the side of the group until three arms simultaneously reached out to pull him into the pile of bodies. When they broke up again, there was a wide smile on Zayn’s face.

The opposition seemed a little more cautious around Zayn as news of what happened trickled down the field. While the defence were grabbing Gregson’s shirt and pushing Harris out of the way of the ball, there seemed to be an unspoken pact about staying away from Zayn, like he was fragile or something. Liam watched as Zayn darted up and down his stretch of field, as he manoeuvred the ball around the defence with expert precision, and knew without doubt that Zayn was anything but fragile. 

Of course, a lot of the visual strength Liam saw came from Zayn’s clenched jaw, balled fists and narrowed eyes. He watched as another member of the defence purposely flopped before he had a run-in with Zayn. 

Louis swore in annoyance. “I don’t know whether they’re baiting him or they think they’re being chivalrous, but they better stop right fucking now.”

Zayn looked like he was having enough of it as well. Cowell subbed him off, shaking his head angrily towards the other team’s coach. 

“I’ll be right back,” Louis said before jogging off in their direction. The rest of them were left, stunned, as the team seemed to fall apart on field. 

“With Zayn off, they’ve now got rookies playing centre-mid and centre-forward, not to mention that twig Goulding in left-defence,” Eleanor groaned, eyes flicking between the coach’s box and the mess on the field. The other team hadn’t scored yet, but that was purely due to Horan’s superior keeping. The rest of the team, while giving it their best, seemed completely lost without Louis and Zayn on field. The game had become more concentrated down near Niall’s goal, almost every player bar the other team’s defence cramped into less than half the field. The defence was getting antsy, nervous, kept crowding the box and getting in Niall’s way. Niall was barking orders angrily at players that kept obscuring his sight of the ball, goes as far as to physically push one of his own teammates out of the way and-

The other team scores. It was a slow, low shot too, just to add insult to injury. Niall threw the ball to the ref and then smacked a goal post angrily. The player who had been in his way jogged off sheepishly. He was immediately subbed off. 

Zayn ran onto the field again, smacking hands with the rookie who had stepped on for him as they traded places. The crowd cheered unanimously, the sound of stomping and smacking chairs reverberating throughout the stadium. 

Zayn looked different now. Not relaxed, no, but Liam could see a definite change in his posture. He’d shifted from annoyed to focussed. From tense to intense. From untouched to untouchable. Harry was almost excited as he was, jumping up and down and screaming alongside Eleanor. 

Liam looked up at the clock, saw that there was less than ten minutes to go. With the game tied so close to the end, the entire stadium was clogged with anticipation. Liam had the urge to karate chop the air to see if the tension would actually add resistance. 

With the minutes ticking down, the game was getting visibly rougher. Zayn had decided to take advantage of the fact that the other team didn’t want to push him and easily dribbled and passed the ball with little resistance from the other team. Of course, they were defending to an extent, meaning that they wouldn’t let Zayn get a clear shot at goal but didn’t fight too hard to steal the ball from him, either. 

It was exactly the advantage they needed, but one Zayn didn’t want to use. It was clear, especially from Louis’ running commentary as he settled back at Eleanor’s side, that Zayn wasn’t going to take the easy shot and allow the other team to treat him differently for things he can’t change. He wasn’t even attempting to score; instead, he was passing off the ball to Gregson and Harris with every opportunity he got. 

“Shoot it, Zayn!” Liam heard Cowell screaming. “Shoot the fucking ball!”

Zayn could easily shoot the ball from where he was, thirty yards down the field. But he didn’t. No, he started sprinting for the goal, ball gliding across the damp grass with the guidance of his feet.

At first the defence stuck to their flopping and soft attempts at steals. Then they tried to side-track him. Then they realised that Zayn wasn’t going down without a fight, and started to really defend. 

But it was too late. Zayn ducked passed their last member of defence, ignored the thudding foot falls of the four men chasing him down from all sides, locked onto a target and kicked. 

“Top bin,” Louis said in awe. “A perfect fucking top bin.”

Liam’s screaming was lost in the cheers of the crowd. Harry grabbed his arm with a tight grip, jumping up and down while Liam fist-pumped the air awkwardly, grinning widely as Zayn was immediately encompassed by his cheering teammates. The stadium was chanting “MALIK” over and over, feet stomping and hands smacking together in the greatest song Liam had ever heard. There was still forty seconds left on the clock, but by the time the ball was back in the centre and the players were lining up in their positions, time had run out and the refs blew their whistles twice in unison to signal the end of the game. The team’s theme song screamed from the speakers throughout the stadium, the lyrics pulsing through more than eighty thousand fans in the crowd. 

Liam looked over and found Louis crying. Fat, ugly tears were escaping his eyes, but it was for only a moment and then he was gone, running onto the field to join the heap of bodies right in the centre where Zayn was last seen. 

 

“That was brilliant,” Harry gushed while they waited outside the change rooms. Both of them were still buzzing with a high that wasn’t theirs, anxiously awaiting for the team to appear again so they could properly congratulate them. Liam thought Harry might scowl at him for the idea, produce some rant about how this is just fuelling the fire of Liam and Zayn’s alleged relationship. Instead, Liam was pleasantly surprised to find the man was all too willing to accompany him. He reckons it’s less to look after Liam and more because he wants to meet Niall.

“It was,” Liam agreed. “Glad you came, then?” 

“Don’t you quote ‘The Wanted’ at me,” Harry scowled. He’s still sour about the boyband breaking up. “And yes, I’m happy I came. Wish you didn’t, though.”

“I’m pretty glad he came,” a deep voice said behind them.

Liam turned, finding Zayn walking out of the change room with damp, sweaty hair and a wide, exhausted smile. His skin looked like it was almost glowing with the light shining on him like that, halloing his head and framing his cheekbones. Liam was a tiny bit jealous of how gorgeous he was. “Hey,” he greeted.

“Hey,” Zayn echoed, voice soft. He cleared his throat, sticking out his hand to Harry. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Harry,” Harry introduced himself. “Is your goalkeeper gay?”

Zayn looked a bit startled. Liam thought it was understandable – he himself as fish-mouthing at his agent in horror.

“He’s, um,” Zayn sputtered. “I don’t know.”

“Cool,” Harry said, like this was fantastic news. He turned to Liam, a look in his eyes that seemed to say ‘It’s not a no, is it?’

Zayn’s team started trickling out then, all of whom paused for a moment to ruffle Zayn’s hair or kiss him loudly on the cheek or even (again, in Tomlinson’s case) lift him up and spin him around before leaving. Horan even pretended to hump Zayn’s leg, claiming he “deserves a good dickin’ after a play like that, eh lads?” Harry looked delighted by this. Niall looked delighted by Harry’s presence. 

“Niall, this is Harry, Liam’s agent,” Zayn introduced, eyes amused when he caught Liam’s gaze. “Harry, this is-”

“The keeper,” Harry said breathily. He was looking at Niall’s (admittedly quite large) hands. 

“Um,” Zayn said. “Yeah.”

Niall stepped forward to shake Harry’s hand. Harry grabbed it with his left hand instead and pulled him into place next to him, and then they walked away hand in hand, simple as that. 

“What the fuck,” Zayn said. 

“That’s Harry for you,” Liam shrugged, grinning.

“When do you think we’ll need to start looking for groomsmen tuxes?” Zayn asked wonderingly. Liam laughed, and Zayn’s façade broke. They fell into each other, hugging tightly even if Zayn smelt a little ripe. 

 

“How’ve you been?” Liam asked when they pulled away. They didn’t go far, Liam’s hands still on Zayn’s shoulders.

“Alright,” Zayn shrugged. There was an edge to his casual reply, a tightness in the background.

“Louis told us about what that dickhead said,” Liam told him. “That asshole was way out of line.”

Zayn just shrugged, turning around and leading Liam into the change rooms. “I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t have to be,” Liam seethed, startled by how much his voice echoed in the room. He peered around and saw a glimpse of empty showers, figuring the tiles probably added to it. 

“Liam,” Zayn said, placing his hands on his shoulders. “I’m a twenty-three-year-old brown Muslim biracial gay man. There are a lot of people in this world who don’t like that combination, or any of it. And they’re not worth the effort, okay?”

Liam couldn’t look in his wide, amber eyes without getting lost, so instead he looked down at his muddied shoes. “You don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

“Fisher will get some sort of punishment from the league, so karma will get him, babe,” Zayn said seriously, lifting Liam’s chin with a tender hand. He sniffed the air, face scrunching up. “Shit, bro, I need a shower.”

Liam nodded, backing away while Zayn stripped down to just his briefs and pulled his towels out of his duffle bag, making sure they were easy to get to. He walked over to the entrance to the showers, then stopped and look over his shoulder.

“That was an invitation to join me,” he said. Liam grinned and followed. 

 

“Fuck, if I didn’t have a gig tonight I’m blow you right here,” Liam panted, pressing himself against Zayn’s soapy body while the other man sucked a bruise into his neck. 

Zayn groaned against him, body shuddering when he ground his hips up to meet Liam’s. “You can’t say that shit, Liam. Should be illegal.”

Liam reached a hand between them, wrapping his fingers around Zayn’s hard length. Zayn gasped into his neck. His arms came up to wind themselves behind Liam’s head, kissing Liam with all tongue and teeth while the singer blurred his hand up and down his angry red cock. 

“Oh, God,” Zayn moaned, starting to fuck up into Liam’s hand. They quickly caught on to a rhythm: Zayn swivelled his hips up while Liam bought his fist down, squeezing on the upstrokes with a soapy hand that eased the glide. Zayn’s mouth was quickly becoming slack, so Liam took over on that front, biting at Zayn’s jaw and pressing open-mouth kisses down his neck. 

Zayn was shuddering around him. His arms tightened around Liam’s neck while his hips increased in pace. Liam’s hand accelerated to keep up, to chase the high that he knew Zayn was looking for. His arm was becoming sore with the amount of effort he was putting in, the awkward angle, the lack of lubricant as the water washed the soap away. Zayn was a panting mess, swearing in between long mewls and moans. Liam wondered vaguely if someone might hear them, because Zayn was being loud enough to alert the entire country to what they were doing. 

Liam liked it.

“Come on, baby,” he encouraged, scratching a hand up Zayn’s back so that he could see him arch. “Look so good.”

Zayn released onto Liam’s fist and their stomachs. The cum was almost immediately washed away, swirling down the drain while Zayn caught his breath. Liam held Zayn up by his waist, tonguing his neck while Zayn pulsed through the last of his aftershocks. Zayn finally opened his eyes and looked up, squinting past water to see Liam. “You’re a great cheerleader, do you know that?”

Liam shoved him playfully. He immediately drew him back in, though, so that he could kiss Zayn’s lips raw. Zayn only allowed it for a moment before he let go and dropped to his knees. “What’re you doing?” Liam asked, eyes wide and mouth hanging open a little. 

Zayn just grinned up at him. “I don’t have a gig tonight now, do I?” 

Liam made an embarrassing, aborted noise when Zayn began sucking on his head. He pushed back the foreskin, tongue lapping at the slit while blurts of precum fell between his lips. Liam watched, enthralled, as Zayn eyes closed against the stream of water, eyelashes clumping and hair falling softly over his face. Liam pushed it back so that he could see more clearly, and decided to keep his hand there as Zayn began taking more of him in.

There was a bit of struggling, and a lot of choking as Zayn tried to take Liam down while water kept getting in the way. But Zayn didn’t stop his movements, just kept powering through while he bobbed his head filthily with Liam’s cock pressed against his cheek. Liam’s other hand came to cradle him face, fingers tracing where Zayn’s cheek protruded. 

“So gorgeous,” Liam murmured lowly. Zayn’s eyes opened and he looked up, gurgling around his cock when some water seeped into his mouth. “Oh, fuck,” Liam groaned as Zayn’s mouth vibrated around him. 

Zayn pulled back so he was sucking on the head again. It made his assault more effortless now that he wasn’t choking on water as much, and instead had a firm hand stroking Liam’s where his mouth didn’t cover. He was rubbing his tongue along the slit again, cheeks hollowing when he looked up at Liam.

The image alone was enough to have Liam spilling over. He pulled on Zayn’s hair as he came, eyes closed while galaxies exploded and reformed behind his eyes, body swaying and knees threatening to buckle. Zayn stroked him through it but removed him mouth, and Liam got the lovely image of seeing his cum drip onto Zayn’s golden, tattooed chest before it was washed away. 

Zayn looked pretty smug. 

“You think I’m gorgeous?” he asked teasingly.

Liam hauled him to his knees, pleased by the dazed and awed look on Zayn’s face. “If there’s a creature in this world who doesn’t think the same thing I’ll punch it.”

“I don’t think babies have much of a concept of beauty,” Zayn rationalises. “Or bees.”

“I’ll punch a fucking bee then, I don’t care,” Liam said. He managed to hold a serious face for all of three seconds before the two of them burst out laughing. Liam’s stomach quickly started to ache, exhausted after the orgasm. He can’t imagine how Zayn feels. 

“Hey, Liam,” Zayn said, a little softer.

Liam smiled fondly at him. “Yeah?”

“We’ve bruised each other up a bit,” Zayn said, his thumb tracing over a few tender spots on Liam’s neck. Liam’s eyes raked over the ones blooming of Zayn’s. Zayn smiled nervously. “So, like, might as well hold hands when we leave, right?”

Liam pouted. “Naw, I’ve liked fucking with the paps, though.” 

Zayn lightly head-butted his shoulder. “Leeyum.” 

“Is this you asking me to go steady?” Liam asks. “Because the answer’s been yes for months now.”

Zayn’s eyes lit up at that. “Yeah?”

“Of course,” Liam said softly, shortening the small distance between them so he could kiss his boyfriend sweetly. 

And they did walk out, hand-in-hand. The paparazzi had a field day. So did Liam.


End file.
